From One Prison to Another
by AFictionalWriter
Summary: As Special Agent Peter Burke drove away from the prison with Neal in the passenger seat, the conman couldn't help but feel like he was going from one prison to another. /Reviews welcome\
1. Chpt 1 Release

Author's Note: This came to me while I was writing the end of the third part of my other WC fanfic called "Why?" Just a short drabble of what Neal is thinking when he walks out of prison to meet Peter; it's a little short. I might or might not expand on when he stays for the hotel for two hours, when he meets June, his first day, etc.

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor am I making any profit off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

It was truly a good day when Neal Caffrey succeeded in getting what he wanted. This made just about every day he had while being a charming and extremely intelligent con a good day, and some were even great ones. But when the prison guard chief irritably handed him his old belongings and told him he would be released to FBI Special Agent Peter Burke's custody as part of a work release program, it was a truly a great day. Not only had Neal successfully persuaded Burke to get him out of prison, but now he could spend his time not helping the agent solve cases looking for Kate.

That had really been his plan all along – to find Kate and bring her back. She had dumped him, yes, almost heartlessly through a plexi-glass barrier, but that didn't mean things were over. They didn't need to be over. They _couldn't _be over. Neal needed her- more than he needed to lie or cheat or steal in order to stay alive and, up until he was caught, free.

So as the federal agents flooded into their empty apartment with weapons drawn and attention focused on the conman in the middle of the room, Neal desperately sought for a way to get back out of prison before Kate was too far gone. Spying the red piece of thread on the agent's cheap black suit jacket, he explained what it was and got the agent to admit that he had been having a little trouble in catching the criminal.

_Bingo._

Upon convincing the agent to release him into his custody, packing up his few belongings and stepping out of the steel doors for the second time in a week and a half, looking like he belonged on a runway instead of a federal agency or prison, Neal felt a medley of emotions – smugness, surprise, confident and also a little depressed, which he hid quite well from the agent. The wind whipped around the two men as the agent, a suspicious gleam in his eye that didn't look like it would ever go away, ordered the conman to show him the tracker that had been put onto his leg before he stepped out the door.

This was the one flaw in Neal's plan – that damned tracker. He couldn't get it off without alerting the FBI, and their reaction time was five minutes. Neal could be able to get a head start on them in that amount of time, but he didn't like to take chances when he wasn't sure the odds were in his favor.

The tracker was there – black, itchy, annoying, blinking and unbreakable. He couldn't get it off without the FBI's permission, which limited his chances to whenever he was undercover, an unlikely chance of escaping.

In a way, Neal was trapped – more so than while he was in prison. The entire FBI White Collar crime unit would watch his every movement while he worked, and when he didn't the tracker would do their job for them. And Kate was so close....

But he couldn't let some godforsaken tracker or the FBI stop him from getting his happily ever after. He refused to let that happen; he wouldn't let that happen. He would get Kate back and they'd run away from New York for good, away from all of it.

Neal climbed into Burke's car, and as the tires drove them farther and farther from one prison, he felt as if he was on his way to another.


	2. Chpt 2 Car Ride

Author's Note: Per request of Writer's-BlockDP who would like some blanks filled in. This part is about the car ride Neal and Peter take to the hotel Neal stays at for a few hours. Because of a few mistakes I made in the first writing of this part I updated this and the third part also. Thanks to Yllek and Ursula4x for catching my mistakes - I have only the pilot fully once, and I just assume the Marshals came in and put the anklet on him.

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor am I making any money off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

He had to admit, Peter Burke drove a nice car. Of course, Burke probably got paid more since the first time he'd caught him - most likely because he had caught the great Neal Caffrey and received a promotion.

Yeah, that was it. Neal gave a side glance to the agent as he drove towards God knows where. Burke had become head of the entire White Collar crime unit; now instead of doing the leg work and digging for information himself he ordered other, lesser agents to do it for him, meaning that Neal basically had a "boss" now along with a "supervisor" and, dare he say it, "owner."

Neal mentally shuddered. The last time the conman had had a boss of any sort had been back when he was fifteen (he'd lied about his age) and working at a small retail store (not one of those cheap ones, mind you; he would never find himself working at one of those officially) in his hometown, and that hadn't exactly worked out so well. It was one of many reasons why Neal liked to be his own boss.

He looked down at his left ankle. The newly placed tracker was just visible underneath the brim of his expensive pants. His leash. He had been a little surprised when the U.S. Marshals sauntered into the holding room and said he would be wearing it for "security reasons," as they put it. But then, he also wasn't surprised - he had just broken out of a maximum-security prison. And he'd been caught - again. By Burke.

That sort of thing was a blow to a conman's ego.

Part of Neal hated himself for staying at his and Kate's old apartment long enough for Burke to find him. He should have done a once-through of the apartment, grabbed the bottle and run. The overwhelming pain that had engulfed him when he had seen the empty space and no sign of Kate in sight, however, made him sink to the floor and forget about everything except his own misery.

And now, Neal Caffrey - world-class thief, forger, liar and an overall genius - was both miserable and trapped. He was wasting time in this car when he could be wasting it looking for Kate. Knowing her she could be halfway across the world by now - she'd had a good enough head start for it.

Neal was pulled rather violently from his thoughts when Burke turned onto what must be one of the poorer neighborhoods of New York. At first he thought the federal agent was just making a detour but when he parked outside a shabby looking hotel at the end of the street he began to think otherwise.

Getting out of the car and following Burke to the front door Neal found himself beginning to wish he was back in prison.


	3. Chpt 3 A Few Hours of Hell

Author's Note:Both this and the second part have been updated due to some mistakes I made while writing it. It has more to it now, and has hints of what Neal talks to Peter about later on in the pilot, if anyone can recognize it. This part is for Wondo.

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor am I making any profit off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

Neal really couldn't believe it had come to this.

That was all he could think as he quickly made his way to his room, sensing the leers the other "guests" gave him as he walked away. He opened the door and, closing it shut without so much as a backwards glance, dumped the files Burke had given him on an old wooden chair. The con could almost hear it groan under the added pressure.

He really couldn't believe this. Neal hadn't minded going to prison that much - he knew that, if he played his cards right and was good, he would eventually get out once his time was up, maybe even sooner. But Kate dumping him made it worse; he was left in a place where there was no hope and no point in staying.

And now he was stuck in a fleabag hotel - no motel; noone in their right mind would dare call this a hotel - which only made everything ten times as worse. Worse than burning in hell for eternity, something he likely deserved for all of the stupid things he'd done throughout his life.

Now that Neal thought about it, he had never actually worried about where he'd be staying if Peter did get him out of prison. He had been too worried about spending another fours years in prison with no chance of ever seeing Kate again. It didn't really faze him, though - he was a convict after all. Well, a released convict. At any rate he doubted the FBI felt he deserved to stay at a snazzy hotel, especially if they were the ones paying for it.

He couldn't say he wasn't used to living in these kinds of places, though. Back before he'd been sent to prison he and Kate had lived together in a three-room apartment with barely any furniture or prized possessions to call their own. The place had been roomy, sure, but it always made them hungry for something better, a trait that pushed them farther and farther into a life of crime.

The conman had been subconsciously pacing the room while he was thinking, every now and then running his fingers through his hair trying to decide what to do. He finally stopped long enough to actually look at the room he was in. The bed had sunken in near the middle where dozens, maybe even hundreds, of people had slept before. The chair he had placed the files on seemed to be held together by needle-thin nails and pure spite. The dresser was missing a knob on the third drawer, and if he stayed he would have to use the bathroom located a few doors down the hall. He almost wanted to sit down somewhere, but decided he didn't want to risk injuring himself or ruining his coat and pants.

What would other con artists like him say if they could see him like this? Living in a shabby old hotel - no, it was a motel; no hotel looked like this - and under the supervision of the federal agent who not just caught him once, but _twice_, and the whole damn FBI. He couldn't even walk around New York without the Bureau knowing and possibly setting off the tracker.

Neal began pacing again as he was reminded about how he and Kate used to dream about living in a penthouse near the water, and they'd have priceless pieces of artwork from Goya and Rembrandt hanging on the walls with chandeliers lining the ceilings. Classical music from Bach and Beethoven would be heard in every room every day, all day.

That dream had died when Neal was caught. Even though he still had hope that, perhaps once he was officially released from prison, he and Kate might be able to start working towards that dream again, he couldn't help but feel that is was slowly slipping away with every day he spent in that prison cell.

But no one ever said it was lost completely.

Making up his mind Neal left his room and, walking through the front door of the hotel, began to make his way to the thrift shop down the block.

~oOoOoOo~

Bit more different than the first version of this part. If anyone had trouble seeing what suggested a later part in the pilot, it was the dream about living in a better place with real food, etc. That was basically what the bottle meant to Neal and Kate.


	4. Chpt 4 Interesting

Author's Note: Time to introduce the lovely June. How great is she? I think a lot of people would be surprised by her story if she were a real person, even Neal – which is basically the theme to this chapter. It's a little shorter than the other chapters. Thanks to all the review, comments, suggestions, etc. – they make an author write faster ;-)

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor am I making any money off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

Neal didn't know why he was so shocked that the thrift store had nothing in the way of clothes. Or, they had clothes, but nothing that his high standards of living would allow him to wear. He was just searching the coat rack for the third time, exasperated with the poor clothing choices, his new living quarters, and the tracker that had begun to really irritate him when he heard a lady's voice by the counter.

June really was a sweet woman. And the clothes she had brought in to donate were extraordinary. It would be hard for him that they were actual Devores if it wasn't for the label on the satin clothing. It was hard for him to believe that they were rat pack.

Neal tried on a suit jacket that the woman had brought with her, and she seemed a little sad as she remembered how her husband, Byron, used to wear it when they went dancing. Neal could almost envision the woman wearing a diamond necklace and a beautiful satin dress to match her husband's outfit.

The con let his guard down with the old woman. There was no threat to be had from a woman donating her late husband's clothing, much less a woman with such fine taste. He gave a genuine smile as he talked with her, the first one since he left prison on work-release. It was a little strange, but he actually forgot the previous irritation he had had not two minutes ago about the annoying tracker and unrefined clothes and repulsive hotel down the block – even Kate.

And then, when the woman who had seemed to appear out of nowhere, mentioned that she had an apartment she wasn't using, Neal knew his life might be looking up after all.


	5. Chpt 5 Surprise!

Author's Note: Here's to June letting Neal stay in her more hygienic and welcoming abode. This reads more like the summary you might find on the back of a book, only way longer. Written while drinking Coca-Cola and listening to Grease by Frankie Valli and Glitter in the Air by P!nk.

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor am I making any profit off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

June's mansion is a four-story built in the last decade of the eighteenth century. It was owned by a rather successful alcohol distiller who had businesses in New York, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Louisiana, Tennessee and Kentucky. The mansion itself had been built in the peak of his distilling career as a fifth anniversary gift for his young wife, an extravagant, expensive and gorgeous woman who had never lifted a finger in her entire life. The couple began to lose their fortune during the Prohibition and Great Depression, but things turned downhill when a forerunner of one of the most dangerous gangs in New York shot down the husband as he stepped out of a flower shop with roses for his wife.

The husband had begun to sell to gangs throughout the country in a vain effort to keep his business running and his wife happy. As the gang grew larger, more dangerous and cocky, however, they began to demand that the distiller lower his prices or else risk losing their business for good. The husband had argued. The husband was killed.

Ever the stubborn woman, the now lonely wife refused to find another means of income and never married again, despite a growing line of potential suitors. Her habit of buying things on impulse and going out to eat every night at high-end restaurants slowly depleted the fortune her husband had spent his life building up. Finally, seeing no other way to get money she began selling her possessions that she no longer wanted or cared for, and eventually sold the house for half the cost it took to build it a half-century earlier.

The wife moved to Georgia to escape the now exhausting city life, but a young couple moved in no more than two weeks after she left, in 1958. This new husband was a leading member of a large gang in New York, a rival of the one that had killed the alcohol distiller. Having an eye for great taste he was constantly dressed in the finest suits made in the twentieth century. His wife, a gorgeous woman herself but more hard-working and intelligent than the distiller's, was a continuous fixture on her husband's arm when he wasn't out "working."

Years later, the husband died of a heart attack brought on by a lack of respect for the fragility of a human being's veins and arteries. The wife lived as contentedly as any wife without her beloved husband could, and one day her driver pulled up to the mansion, now home to some of the valuable items the husband dotingly bought for his wife before his untimely death, and out climbed the wife but with a young guest who carried the bag of clothes she had brought to donate to a thrift store almost two miles away.

The male guest, a convict charged with bond forgery released into the custody of the federal agent who had caught him in the first place, seemed utterly surprised by the sheer exquisiteness of the mansion, by the valuable pieces of artwork, pottery and furniture that filled the home. And the wife, who by now had become very fond of the guest and his charming and sincere smile, seemed happy of her guest's interest. She offered to let the man stay in the apartment upstairs, and to keep her late husband's clothing, in return for babysitting her granddaughter, helping out around the house and escorting her to some of the many galas and parties she often went to.

The guest agreed, but only after telling her of his slight predicament, showing her his anklet and then convincing her to take seven hundred a month for room and board, at least to keep the feds happy.

And the wife didn't mind, she explained knowingly. Her husband had been a criminal, too.


	6. Chpt 6 Work

Author's Note: Just a heads-up, I'll be away **May 4th - 9th **in California so I probably won't get anything posted that week. I've decided to write at least 15 chapters for this story (listed on my profile). This story's about Neal's first day at work. Is it just me or was Neal the only one coming up with all of the answers?

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor am I making any profit off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

The FBI White Collar crime unit is comprised of a special group of the greatest minds in the entire Bureau, other than the units dealing with terrorism. The New York City based unit, leaded by Agent Peter Burke, includes Jones, an agent that walks through the double doors of the office with a sense of justice and intelligence, and Diana, the "probie," who carries herself with pride and confidence, learning quickly from the more experienced agents around her.

And then there's Neal Caffrey.

Widely known among everyone in the White Collar crime unit as an extremely charming and intelligent himself, Neal's first day at work is a tribute to such intelligence in that he comes up with all of the answers to Burke's questions. His eyes grow sharp and focused as his mind races to figure out what the Dutchman is doing with six hundred sheets of Spanish 1944 paper, and why he forges famous Goya paintings instead of simply doing his own work. 'Cause you see, Neal's situation as a convict on work-release is both complicated and straight-forward at the same time: if he successfully helps Burke catch the Dutchman, then he can stay as a consultant with the White Collar crime unit and help out with cases for the remainder of his prison sentence; if he stays as a consultant, however, then he may still get sent back to prison if he steps out of line or turns to his old ways again, and he also has to give up on Kate (or at least that's what they believe).

Neal Caffrey recognized the rather fragile situation he was dealt with. He couldn't say it was somebody else's fault, as he had been the one to decide to escape a maximum-security prison to run after his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend if anyone wanted to get literal about it.

The situation was fragile because Neal's staying out of prison was vital to getting Kate back - that was the only thing to it. There were a few short seconds when Neal had been slumped against the pillar in his and Kate's empty, old apartment, not caring whether he went to prison for four years or for his entire life. He'd felt guilty during those few seconds, believing he was the reason she'd run away because he could not keep his promise of a better life for the two of them.

But then he had found the security fiber on Burke's jacket, one from the new Canadian hundred, and in that split second his genius and ever-plotting mind discovered a way to stay out of prison - all he needed to depend on was if Burke would allow him to leave on work-release or not; the rest he'd have almost absolute control over. Neal could be good if he wanted to. And he refused to screw up again and get himself sent back to jail without even trying to see if he could find out where Kate was and get her back.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, though, he did find some parts a little bit entertaining. When he had the little "dance" with Diana at the airport before Burke shot him down (he'd probably end up laughing about the whole thing later on) and then when he told the museum currator the bond was a fake and not the prized and historic original he believed it to be, but was instead a forgery that hadn't even had enough time to dry and been there less than a week. Of course, it might be that he was so adament on never stepping foot into a prison again except on FBI business, making his brain work harder than it had ever worked before. Harder than when he had been forging bons, stealing precious pieces of artwork and jewelry, trying to stay at least three steps, not one, ahead of Special Agent Peter Burke.

There was almost this ease to it, though, as things seemed to fit together within seconds as soon as he began looking at the evidence, trying to see it from a conman's point of view. He began to think of what he would have done if he were in the Dutchman's place, the measures and equipment he'd use to get what he wanted. Federal agents didn't generally think like a con artist - they didn't know where to look for incriminating evidence or how to tell if something was a fake or not like Neal did.

During the day, when Neal wasn't with Burke or solving the case for them, he could sense a certain tensity amongst the other agents. Burke had let the enemy into their home base, gave him access to knowledge about how they worked and survived, letting him run around Manhattan (or at least two miles of Manhattan), giving him enough time alone after the day was over to figure out a way to run. They were taken aback by his intelligence, yes, but they weren't exactly letting their guard down either.

Neal wasn't that surprised by it. Mostly he ignored it, going on with the case as if it wasn't his first, as if his entire freedom didn't ride on catching this one man. It was in the way they sat with their backs to him, though, and the way they didn't address him directly but only to Burke, like he wasn't there, that reminded him of the situation he was in just about every single second.

And he really hoped all of this was worth it.

~oOoOoOo~

My favorite bit of conversation between Peter and Neal throughout the entire first season; I laugh whenever I read or hear this, and you can basically tell who's saying each line:

_"You are way out of your league."_

_"Ahh, harmless flirting. It's like a dance."_

_"Neal, there is no dance. You're not even on her dance card. No dancing for you."_

_"Ummm...she digs the hat."_

_"Ummm...she'd rather be wearing the hat."_


	7. Chpt 7 Another Car Ride

Author's Note: I'm surprised Peter didn't notice Neal's desperation as he asked him whether or not he thought Kate would leave the country, but then again he was probably too wrapped up in his own problems to notice Neal's. This is my second to last post until May 10th, or next Monday. Enjoy =-)

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor am I making any profit off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

Neal's thoughts of work faded away to thoughts of Kate as soon as Burke told him that they were done for the night. He attempted to make friendly conversation with the agent as he drove Neal to June's mansion, knowing full well that if Burke thought he would be annoying and a pain in the ass if he stayed with the FBI he'd just send him back to prison. That ended, though, when Burke accused Neal of driving Kate away and being the cause of his love problem.

Which might be true. Perhaps Neal had pushed her too hard when they had been together, or maybe it was him being careless enough to get caught. He should be able to blame Burke for that – he was the one that had caught him, and so he's the one that put a strain on their relationship. But Neal knew that what they had been doing for three years was basically a game, a game where he knew the stakes at risk but he was just too selfish or stupid enough to care.

Either way he didn't doubt that he had been at least part of the reason why she left. But it was in the angry and accusatory tone of voice in which Burke said it that made Neal turn away to look out the window and quiet down the rest of the trip.

He was still hoping that Kate would take him back, after everything they'd been through. If giving up on a life of crime made her happy, then he'd do it. If she wanted him to continue making forgeries and stealing priceless antiques, then he'd do that as well. But he had to at least _talk_ to her, to find out exactly why she had left. Was she sick of waiting for him? Should he have done something different while he was playing the cat and mouse game with Burke, or broken out sooner? Did she think he wasn't going to keep his promise of a better life for the two of them, or that it was a waste of time?

That was all he needed – to just talk to her and figure out for himself what she wanted. If she wanted him back, then he'd stay; if she didn't want him, he'd leave, even though it would destroy him.

He just really hoped she wanted him back.

~oOoOoOo~

OK, so this isn't my favorite out of all of the chapters I've done so far – I think the one about June's mansion was my favorite. But I wanted to write something down to go in between my last chapter and my next chapter, which is about Mozzie. It makes me wonder, though, whether or not talking to Dr. Phil would make Peter's love problems go away ;-)


	8. Chpt 8 Moz Haversham

Author's Note: Officially my last post until May 10th; I just really wanted to get this one out there or else it would be bothering me the entire time I was in California. It took me longer to come up with a back-story for how Neal and Mozzie met than it did for June's mansion, at least for one that's believable (I highly doubt he just popped out of the ground like a Cabbage Patch Kid). Anyways, I've read in a Jeff Eastin interview about season two that we'll find a little bit more about Mozzie and why he doesn't go by his first name.

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor am I making any profit off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

Dante Haversham, or "Mozzie" as he likes to be called, is a man of many fears and paranoid-induced habits, leading him to be a little eccentric, panicky and mistrustful of almost everyone and everything, but most of all the government and any type of law enforcement. His home, newly located a few miles outside of Neal's radius, contains various items such as nighttime vision goggles, ordinary objects with hidden microphones, GPSs and cameras if the need ever arose, ear wigs and numerous other items that any con artist could possibly need.

Mozzie had met Neal Caffrey almost ten years ago, when the handsome and charming conman was just making his way into the big leagues. Neal had been planning a con on a man living in the south of France, away from the cities and tourists. The man, who went by the name of Edouard Auguste, collected valuable pieces of artwork from Goya and Rembrandt, but was also known as one of the most deadly art collectors in Europe: Auguste's mansion was protected by cameras around and inside of his home, along with six incredibly large guards that patrolled the are day and night while carrying automatic rifles. Auguste himself was said to carry two hand guns with him at all times.

Three years previously, a young man, perhaps age twenty-two, had been making a food delivery to a house down the street but had gotten the numbers wrong. When he walked up to the front gate and called out, wondering if he had the right address, three of Auguste's guards, still carrying their rifles, "escorted" him inside. Despite evidence that the young man had indeed been in front of Auguste' mansion before he suddenly disappeared, the French government never made an arrest, or even accused Auguste of causing the young man's disappearance.

And Neal Caffrey, in all of his infinite wisdom, decided that he'd steal from this man.

But Neal, who up to this point had only done small-time thefts and forgeries, thankfully admitted to himself that he could not do this alone without running the risk of being discovered and killed. He followed rumors of man who was as mistrustful and intelligent as the man he was after all the way to Chicago; he was said to be one of the best in the game, and Neal needed as much help as he could get without attracting too much attention.

The con had gone off without a hitch. Mozzie's paranoia led him to provide dozens of plans and escape routes for each one, a fake identity with a complete background should he be caught and questioned, and, most importantly, everything on Auguste and his fortified mansion.

When the con was done, and Neal went back to the states with his treasure, some of which he had split with his accomplice, he eventually ran more cons with the short man, becoming friends and gaining enough of his trust that he told him his real name.

Neal's going to prison didn't suit his now long-time friend and accomplice, however. Before he went to court and was sentenced to four years in prison, Mozzie told him to look him up when he got out. He'd know where to find him. A hater of the government and law enforcement, Mozzie had vowed never to set foot inside a prison unless he had absolutely no other choice, and even then he'd resist.

Neal couldn't blame him for it. The minute Mozzie would step into a federal prison he'd probably be handcuffed and dragged off simply because his obvious paranoia had made the guards suspicious.

So, Neal took his advice after getting after prison on work-release; he called him up from June's phone, after she'd gone to sleep and the maids and cook had retired for the night. He spent only a couple of minutes on the phone, telling Mozzie everything that had happened in the past few months in just a couple of sentences.

He wasn't expecting him to arrive so quickly, though. Nor did he expect Mozzie to scare him as he made his way up to his apartment one night. It was relieving, seeing the conman sitting there, looking the same as he had the last time they'd seen each other.

Mozzie hadn't brought the good news Neal was hoping for, but he was definitely glad he could still get news from him.

~oOoOoOo~

In case any of you are wondering, the name Edouard used above has almost the same pronunciation as Edward; the name Auguste I'm not so sure about, but it's most likely the same as August but with a pronounced "e" at the end. I got the names from the Frenchmen who suggested and designed the Statue of Liberty. Edouard Rene Lefebvre de Laboulaye suggested a lasting monument be created to symbolize freedom as a gift to America, our country and France being what he called the "Two Sisters." Frederico-Auguste was a sculptor attending the party where Laboulaye voiced his idea, and later on went to design the Statue of Liberty. So there is everyones history lesson for the day ^-^


	9. Chpt 9 Elizabeth Burke

Author's Note:This was written on my flight from LAX in Los Angeles to Philadelphia as I sat between a businessman who looked as if he could pass out from sleep deprivation and a young woman who couldn't find a better way to spend her time. Despite having a sunburn on my nose that makes me look like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer just in time for prom and being consistently tired due to the three hour time difference, the trip was excellent. If you want to know more about it, you can look at my profile or ask, or you can simply read the new chapter (don't worry - I'd continue reading, too ha ha).

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor am I making any profit off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

Neal paid the cab driver before stepping out onto the sidewalk in front of Peter Burke's house. As the cab drove away, he surveyed the agent's home.

It looked like a nice enough place. Not as large or expensive as June's mansions, of course, but that was to be expected. He wondered whether or not it had been Burke or his wife that had chosen the house, and settled on the wife. Burke would probably just go along with whatever she wanted as long as it was affordable.

Holding a folder containing the Spanish Victory Bond and some files he'd received the day before, he walked up the front steps and knocked on the door, adjusting his outfit one final time while he waited.

If Neal hadn't known any better, he'd say that Burke's wife, Elzabeth, was Kate's long-lost sister. And perhaps she was - he didn't know every little thing about Kate. There had always been a few secrets the two of them had that neither wanted to share, and Neal didn't mind. He never enjoyed the pressure some people caused by saying that you need to know every single teeny thing about the person you care about; why not be fine with what you know?

Elizabeth seemed genuinely surprised to find him on her doorstep, but let him in after he told her who he was and why he was there. After what might have been shock at seeing him in person and not just a picture on an FBI file, she went from being distant to friendly as she brought out coffee and they talked while they waited for Peter to finish getting ready (if he was getting ready in the first place; Neal wasn't too sure about it, but he wasn't worried).

Neal had done a small search on Elizabeth, though it was only enough to know her name, where she worked and other small bits of information - nothing like the extensive research Neal and Burke had done on each other.

Neal was happy that Elizabeth knew about different wines, pieces of artwork and music, something which her husband didn't seem too keen on. He basically relaxed just as he had the first time he'd met June. The con artist in him could sense no side angle that she could be playing, unless she planned to give him a truly horrible birthday party for making Burke work late for three years in a row.

He showed her the Dutchman's signature on the fake bond he'd found late the night before, after Moz had gone home. She seemed impressed, or at least pretended to be impressed, up until Burke came running half-way down the stairs, cell phone in one hand as he began to tell Elizabeth that Neal had activated his anklet. That was the point where her interest turned into amusement at her husband's frustration.

The conman inwardly laughed as he looked at the agent's expression, which stopped when he began threateningly punching numbers into his cell phone to call the U.S. Marshals. Then it was time to, once again, show him that Neal was worth keeping out of prison, and that he realized how serious his situation still was.

When Elizabeth told the conman, sarcastically almost, that it was nice to have finally met him after all that time, Neal smiled as he made his way outside, he thought it couldn't have been truer.

~oOoOoOo~

Please excuse the horrible ending. Endings and beginnings have always been the hardest for me to write, whether it's a story or an essay for school, but the middle part is the easiest. I'll have the next chapter up within a few days - I have an AP exam on Wednesday, and I still have to finish two practice tests my teacher gave me to work on while I was away.


	10. Chpt 10 Did You Just Lie to a Priest?

Author's Note: Has anyone ever had a story idea, and then completely forgot about it? That's what happened to me a few days ago, when I was thinking of what I could write for NCIS. All I remember is that I thought it'd be a great story. Oh, well.

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor am I making any profit off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

Despite being yelled at like a five year old for talking to Elizabeth, Neal stilled played around with Peter. He just made sure that Peter didn't know he was doing it.

He wondered how many years in hell he'd get for lying to a priest. Probably not as much as he was getting for his lies, forgeries, thefts and cons altogether. Maybe it would only be a few years, or ten. He didn't really care. To Neal, the only thing that mattered was that he had fun while he was alive; torture after his death was the last thing on his mind.

It wasn't as if he actually _wanted _to lie to a priest, or that he wanted to get in trouble with Peter or the FBI, but it was his nature to joke and tease and flirt with people excessively. Doing this was useful for any number of reasons, which including bringing the attention off of him, making the other (usually a mark in this situation) feel like he was sincerely concerned and interested in what they were saying, slipping his way into a secured area, getting people to lighten up and also to have some fun.

For this time, it was getting into a secured area and having fun.

So when Peter whispered to him, "Did you just lie to a priest?" it took Neal all of his will-power and self-restraint to keep from laughing out loud. The shock the agent expressed in those few words helped the con to confirm his believe that the man hadn't seen everything.

Neal and Peter's trip to the church also sparked a long line of "Well, it's alright as long as we get the evidence we need" in Neal's mind. The idea that getting proof of the Dutchman signing his work was more important than getting discovered caused much trouble for the both of them.

Not that Neal's realization of his mistake didn't make him do it all over again. But when he was seen by the Dutchman, who looked at him with a sort of malice that he'd only seen on the faces of people that wanted to kill him (which, unsurprisingly, was a lot), and he found out that he already knew his name and reputation, he couldn't help but feel a little flattered. Not many people took the time to dig up so much information about him – besides Peter, of course.

He was only a little flattered, though. The Dutchman's freedom was throwing off his own. Each time he escaped, or stayed a step ahead of the FBI for one more day, was putting Neal closer to being sent back to prison.

Letting the Dutchman get him thrown back in prison was the last thing on his to-do list.

"Listen to the spirit, son. Not the flesh."

"…OK. What was that about?"

This was going to be an amusing four years.


	11. Chpt 11 Oleander Candles

Author's Note: One of the weirdest things throughout the first season – at least to me – is that, while Neal believes that honesty is one of the toughest games for him to play, he sure does play it well sometimes. An example is when he admits to Peter the meaning of the Bordeaux wine bottle. Or perhaps he didn't realize he was being so truthful.

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor am I making any profit off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

Oleander candles. Something that represented the difficulty Peter had being romantic. A lot like the Bordeaux wine bottle in a way, except that represented Neal's failure to give Kate a better life. He tried not to think about Kate all the time, which was getting extremely difficult as the days wore on and Moz visited more and more with information on her whereabouts. But it much harder than usual, mainly due to the fact that, with Peter and Elizabeth's ten-year anniversary coming up fast, it reminded him of his and Kate's.

It was a little astonishing to Neal that Peter was still married to Elizabeth after ten years. Of course, Elizabeth probably thought it was sweet that Peter tried so hard to get her the perfect gift each year, passing it off as being gentlemanly and part of his nature. "It's the thought that counts," went the saying.

But Neal had always believed that the saying was for people who couldn't or wouldn't even attempt to get the one they loved the perfect present, straight from the heart. Why give them something that didn't add up to what they really deserved or wanted, why say that you tried, when you could actually _give_ that person something tangible and real – something they could hold onto and show off to others.

Yes, he had always believed that saying was for those who didn't add up – at least until he was one of them.

He hadn't really expected to become rich right after he starting running cons, but what he didn't expect was that it would never happen. There were days when he and Kate would come into hundreds of thousands of dollars after selling a painting they had stolen but didn't want, or scammed another conman they worked with. And then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone – he could never be sure what happened to it. It might have been his incessant need to bring Kate to expensive shows and dinners while they had the money to do it. Neal couldn't remember Kate ever seeming upset or frustrated about it, though. Or maybe he just didn't want to.

Neal brought his attention back to Peter, who was still talking about finding Elizabeth an anniversary gift through her e-Bay bids and credit card receipts. He didn't really know if all of this worrying would be worth it, but he did know what it was like to want the give person you really, _truly_ cared about the perfect gift. So he told Peter, in what may have been the most honest moment he had experienced in a long time, about the meaning of the Bordeaux bottle, and why Kate leaving it as good-bye was so hurtful.

Peter seemed very interested in what he was saying; whether it was because it was something about Neal that he didn't know about and wanted to learn, or because he thought it might help his own situation, Neal couldn't be sure. All he could be sure of was that he kept talking about his and Kate's troubles before he'd been sent off to prison until there was nothing to talk about anymore.

Neal thought that, if he could at least pass on some of the rare wisdom one catches while traveling the world as a criminal, then it would be worth telling one of the few people who would understand.

~oOoOoOo~

Upon request of a certain "freshie," I shall write down the following exclamation: REVIEW!  
^^ It's part of a science experiment.


	12. Chpt 12 Lose her? I just found her

Author's Note: It has been a long time since I've updated this story- actually, it's been 46 days since I've updated this story, which I believe is the longest time I've ever gone without posting or updating something on here so I greatly apologize for the long wait. This seems to be the most popular story of mine for whatever reason, and I personally don't really want to tag this story as "Complete" so I made a poll on my profile on whether or not I should continue this story with episode 2, "Threads." This would start after chapter 15 (this is chapter 12), so if you'd like me to continue this story or not vote!

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor am I making any profit off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

Neal wasn't really sure what he had been expecting when he had asked Moz to find information about Kate's whereabouts, but he certainly hadn't been expecting this.

The photo of Kate was enough to make his heart flutter. Taken just days before it was enough reassurance to let him know that she was still out there and not just a whisp of a dream or mere whim. But that momentary flutter, small enough that it didn't even brighten his now-dim eyes, was drowned by the threat of the bodiless hand on her shoulder.

The bodiless hand presented more questions than he felt comfortable with, or could answer. It was all the common questions that popped up now and then: who is he? Is he after something? What does he want? Does he know who I am? Where is he? Is she with him? Is she hurt? These questions were most likely the sort that his marks asked themselves after he'd conned them.

One question, though, that was different than any question than his marks or he himself had ever asked was "What does his ring mean?" Neal hadn't seen it before, and he'd seen hundreds of different kinds of rings in his lifetime. It was definately not a famous design, or an especially expensive one or he'd have heard of it.

An overwhelming sense of hopelessness and fear clouded his mind and his eyes. He wished badly that Moz would leave so that he wouldn't witness the emotional breakdown that was threatening to come through. He always tried to keep his emotions in check, to be sure that no one around him knew exactly what he was feeling. Letting marks and other conmen know how you were feeling opened the opportunity for them to get the upper hand. Neal had heard tales of what had happened to conmen too foolish to let their emotions show and, even though Neal knew enough to not believe in old wives' tales, he wasn't planning on becoming one of them.g

The great Neal Caffrey, killed for showing his soft side.

Although now that he was under FBI supervision there was a less likely chance that he'd get killed by another criminal for simply showing his longtime affection for dogs or coffee. Even if he was still put in almost the same danger he faced while partnering up with another felon, and had the possibility of getting into even more trouble than he had been in before, at least there was a team of armed federal agents surrounding him at almost all times, ready to shoot someone, if not for killing their new team member, then just for the sake of shooting somebody. And Neal doubted that Peter would let a conman get away after shooting the man he'd spent tireless hours chasing down for three years and then convincing his boss to release from prison. Neal may be a thorn in his side but he was a hell of a lot better than other white collar criminals.

But the fact still lay that it wasn't often that Neal felt like this; knowing his marks and their information provided a safety net to make sure there wouldn't be any surprised. But how else was Neal supposed to feel when he couldn't even tell what the hand's owner looked like?

"I may lose her again, Moz..."

"Lose her? I just found her."

"So did he. So did he."

Staring at the photo of Kate and the hand - this man with a ring - he could be sure that it would haunt him for months to come.

~oOoOoOo~

There it is, short and sweet. Quotes are from "Pilot" and belong to Jeff Eastin and USA. Don't forget to vote ;-)


	13. Chpt 13 Lost

Author's Note: The first part of my story is going to close shortly; the second part is hopefully going to continue on with the next episode of season one, "Threads." That is, if people want me to ;) If you do, or don't, make a vote for it on my profile.

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor am I making any profit off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

The word "lost" could mean any number of things. It could mean that a person had gotten lost in another town, state or even country and couldn't find their way back home. Lost could mean that someone didn't understand something and was confused. Lost could mean that they lost someone or something they deeply cared about and didn't know what to do without them, how to live and how to breathe.

Neal knew from his time abroad, while he and Kate traveled from country to country, conning and tricking their way into expensive hotels, parties and art galleries that the French word, "pardeau," meant "lost." French happened to be one of his favorite languages, not only because it was the mythical language of love but also because it held a certain sophistication and glamour that most languages didn't have. The French spent thousands on luxury and high-end items throughout their history without every being ashamed of it, something Neal respected and admired, inwardly wishing that he and Kate could do the same thing once they hit a big pay day, if that ever occurred at all. Their songs were beautiful and romantic, their large cities ancient wonders, the rolling hills of the country calm and relaxing. France was one of the best countries in the world, Neal though, whether you prefered the glamorous life a city could give you or the contentness the country offered its visitors.

Lost, to Neal, meant a lot of things, and he wondered what lost meant to Kate. Was she lost in San Diego? Or perhaps she was lost without him, not knowing what to do anymore, or what was worth living for. Neal wanted badly to go to san Diego to find out the answer for himself, but a nagging voice in his head told him that that was not possible. He had made an agreement with the FBI, with Peter. If he ran to San Diego to search for Kate he'd almost certianly be caught and thrown back in jail, probably without a chance of ever getting out again.

Neal knew for certain that Peter didn't trust him. Why would he? They'd played a cat-and-mouse game for three long - exciting on Neal's part - years before Peter finally won and sent to prison. He was sentenced for a crime he'd committed, not for something he hadn't. And he'd been investigated for crimes he'd allegedly done, not for crimes he hadn't allegedly done. So there was no possible way that Peter was about to trust him to not cut his tracker and run anytime soon.

This didn't stop Neal from admitting to the federal agent about him looking for Kate, though. Neal sincerely believed that if Elizabeth left him without so much as an explanation he'd travel anywhere and do anything to look for her. So when he began to tell him about the picture of Kate in San Diego and his desire to go there and look for her, he'd hoped that Peter would stop and think about what he would do in Neal's situation.

No go. Peter adamently refused, and Neal, smart enough than to continue to push Peter into believing him or even trusting him just yet was nothing more than complete whim, faked a realization of the uselessness of looking for her. The agent's belief that it was better for him to stick aorund New York and have his chance at a "better life" as put it was flattering to Neal in the sense that Peter thought Neal could do it, but he knew better than to think that this was something he could accomplish. Why try to be something and someone you're not if you know you won't be good at it?

The idea of having a family and settling down one day was something Neal had thought about, yes, but to settle down as a consultant of the FBI, as a lacky for the Bureau on a leash, without Kate and without the chance of ever seeing Kate again in his life, was appalling to Neal. He knew there was a chance of seeing her again and living the life he'd promised for her if he could only find her and convince her to come back. That couldn't be accomplished if Peter refused to let him see her.

So Neal decided that it might be best to look for Kate without Peter's help, or his knowledge. Moz was running low on information for him but there was the chance that something more would come up on her whereabouts, what she was doing in San Diego and who the man with the ring was. Neal had kept information from people before - it was part of the job ot keep information to himself, making sure that no one knew certain things about him and his life that could be detrimental later on. Even Moz didn't know some things about him. Keeping something like looking for Kate, as long as he looked for her while he wasn't with him or at work, should be easy.

At least he hoped it would.


	14. Chpt 14 The Warehouse

Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to post this chapter. I've had major summer reading work to do and this basically got pushed to the side until my cable went out a couple days ago and I couldn't do anything else except use Microsoft Word. This is the second-to-last chapter of the first part of my story; the second part is episode two of season one, _Threads_ (still not sure if I should write that part yet).

Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, nor am I making any profit off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

Neal didn't really know what he was getting himself into.

He thought he should just wing it, as the saying goes. He'd done it numerous – hundreds – of times before he was sentenced to prison. Neal never took a complete look at the consequences of what might happen if his plan failed; doing so might make him more skeptical, or bring bad luck to the whole plot. Moz would often reprimand him for being "reckless" and Neal would think that his best friend sometimes sounded like a very uptight, straight-forward federal agent.

Neal told him that one time – Moz wasn't very happy.

And, of course, this time was just like any other time. Grabbing June's car keys and a camera he drove out to the warehouse.

He hadn't thought of what might happen if his tracker didn't go off, if Peter didn't get there before The Dutchman and his men probably killed him, if he was sent to jail even if Peter did make it and arrested the other conman (he was outside his radius, after all).

But a realization of all of the possible outcomes came to surface in Neal's mind when he was grabbed by some of The Dutchman's overly large and menacing henchmen and pulled inside the warehouse. Neal's head whipped around much like when someone is on a fast ride and they want to see everything around them but the ride's moving too fast for them to look – the henchmen walked, almost ran, to Hagen's plexiglass encased office in the back of the warehouse with Neal looked around every which way trying to look at the printing machines and the stacks of Spanish Snow White books.

The guarantee of a SWAT team and an entire swarm of FBI agents closing in on him if he ever went outside his radius never sounded more pleasant than it did right then.

When he was thrown into the office Neal locked the door as quickly as his con artist fingers could turn the lock. Putting on a smug expression and a cocky smile he acted like his life wasn't being threatened just then, like there still wasn't a chance that they could pull him out and kill him. The FBI probably wouldn't mind as much if that happened. He was just another resource for them to put to use, a liability at the most. If he got into trouble or got hurt, it only made them angrier than usual.

Neal couldn't think of anyone at the Bureau that would be genuinely sad if he was killed. Peter might be disappointed and lightly overcast for a few days but after awhile he'd get over it – he was, after all, just a conman. Elizabeth and June might be two of the few that would be saddened by his death, and then there was Moz, who'd probably keep any pain and depression that came up inside for no one to know about. Showing emotions could get a conman in trouble, and vulnerability was one thing the two of them didn't like to show amongst strangers.

His thoughts of possible and impossible funeral guests were cut short when he and the warehouse's other occupants heard sirens. Hagen's expression turned deadly when he spotted Neal's tracker but the growing fear of getting killed had washed away from Neal's mind when he heard the sirens outside the metal doors – Peter, who probably didn't consider him to be anything more than a criminal, had shown a type of loyalty that conmen don't often see nowadays: the kind where, even if people came from different backgrounds, careers and places, it didn't mean that you should die a horrible death for it.

Neal proudly sat on top Hagen's wooden desk, smoking a Cuban cigar, looking smugly at the chaos he'd created and glad he wasn't part of it any longer. He almost felt the same way he did whenever he pulled off a con, that rush when he realized he'd succeeded and ran off with his prize.

He also felt that this was a much better way to boost an ego than simply stealing a Spanish Victory Bond.


	15. Chpt 15 I'm Official

**Disclaimer:** I do not own White Collar, nor am I making a profit off of this.

~oOoOoOo~

A calming sense of accomplishment had taken over the FBI New York White Collar division, particularly wherever Neal Caffrey chose to lounge around with that big grin on his face, making people want to hit him for being so cocky but also shake his hand for being so damn innovative. Some of the agents conveyed an annoyance at having been outdone by a criminal but it didn't last long - it was hard to be mad at Neal.

This disposition flowed over onto June's house that weekend as Peter drove over to break the good - and surprising, if having been told to the two men before Neal's sentencing - news to the ex-con. After conversing with the sweet old lady about the goings-on of New York and about Neal Peter started to make his descent up the staircase to the ceiling. Part of him (or more specifically, the federal agent part of him) dreaded reaching the next landing. The little surprise meant that Neal would be working for the FBI for awhile, namely Peter. Working with him for four years could create the chance for greater risks, and more opportunities for Neal to run. The nagging in the back of the ex-con's mind hadn't shown itself for the past couple days but it would undoubtedly make another appearance.

Upon opening the door to the ceiling by warm wind, the smell of coffee attacked the federal agent's nostrils (not that he really minded all that much).

"Peter!" a voice called from farther along the ceiling. It failed at feigning surprise and instead settled on distinct confusion as to why said person was there.

"Hey, Caffrey," Peter said back. He sat in a chair opposite the man and looked across the table to his newly appointed CI. Not that Caffrey knew it yet but, of course, his being there had, on a weekend the con was sure he'd rather be spending with his wife instead of him, meant something important was about to happen.

"What's up?" The ex-con held his confident grin in place, making sure to display his perfectly white teeth, but Peter knew him enough to see his mind racing for some answer. Perhaps he thought the FBI decided to send him back to prison despite having helped them solve the case and sent Peter over to break it to him; being the one who knows the ex-con the most, he'd know how to handle a distressed Caffrey.

"I had to give you something before Monday morning," Peter answered, leaning back in his chair.

"What did you have to give me?"

Peter took out what looked like a black wallet and tossed it over to Caffrey, who then opened it. Looking down at it his facial expressions ranged from confusion, surprise and then on to happiness as he realized he wasn't being sent back to prison. He started laughing at himself while Peter started talking to him.

"Just say you won't try to make the next four years a living hell with all of your cons and everything."

Caffrey stopped laughing long enough to ask: "Oh, Peter, would I ever do that to you?"

**[Insert stern, raised eyebrow action here]**

"OK, I promise."

"No, no promises."

"Why not? I can keep promises."

"I seriously doubt that."

"Really, Peter, it's a wonder you have any friends at all… or don't you?"

"_Caffrey _– "

"Alright already! I'll _try _to not make the next four years a living hell. Happy now?"

"Extremely."

"Are you going to go and spend your weekend with your wife now or hang around here waiting for me to rob someone?"

"Should I have thought of staying longer?"

"No, no, just wondering out loud is all."

"Uh huh." Peter got up from his chair and looked at Caffrey one last time before heading for the door.

"See you at the office Monday morning, Caffrey."

"See you then," Caffrey grinned, waving his new badge.

~oOoOoOo~

**A/N:** Don't you just love watching Peter and Neal bicker? It makes me feel all warm inside C= Happy New Year's (unless you're in China, then happy almost New Year's).


End file.
